Losing Your Memory
by HockeyKid6622
Summary: Everyone knows the story of Easy Company, the Screaming Eagles, but what about the people they visited and saw during the war? Katinka is a young Dutch living in Eindhoven during German occupation and is left in charge of protecting her younger sister. But, as the hope of liberation decreases and tensions increase, she will be forced to make a choice that will change her forever.


**Losing Your Memory**

 **Author's note:** thank you to everyone for reading this. I know it's been awhile since I last updated but life has been busy and a little crazy. I am currently working on the first draft of the _We Lucky Few_ sequel. It will be called _The Light Behind Your Eyes,_ I have no idea when I will be finished, but I hopefully not too long. It will be summer, however, which is always busy and, currently, it is the NHL hockey playoffs, which takes up my evenings. As my favourite team has not made the playoffs, I am cheering for my second favourite team and any Canadian team that is not the Edmonton Oilers. So, go Montreal Canadiens go! Anyways, thank you for all your support and a huge thanks to annabelleigh1996 for messaging me and getting my butt in gear. I hope you guys enjoy this piece and let me know what you think. Have a good one, and let me know who you are cheering for in the playoffs! Thanks!

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" _ **Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside while still alive"- Tupac Shakur**_

* * *

I remember a lot. My dad used to say I had the mind of a steel trap; if I heard or saw anything, I would remember it for years.

I remember playing with my friends at school. I remember soaring on the swing set at the playground. In second grade, I fell off and hurt my arm. My teacher had to bring me home to my mother. I remember my friends; although, their names have escaped me, but their faces are etched into my mind. I remember Pieter, the boy who lived a few houses away from mine, and still does. He was my first crush, and I like him still. He has green eyes that remind me of grass. His hair is blonde, and he has a tiny little cowlick that curls just in front of his eyes. He gave me a yellow tulip once.

Then the war started. Now, I can barely remember what has gone on around me- yesterday and the day after are a blur, but I still remember the good, old days. The days when I was a kid, a genuine kid. I remember going to the market without fear of the Germans; I would go to the theatre without the soldiers watching our every move; I wore orange without distress.

My homeland of Holland claimed our neutrality and watched as Britain, France, and Germany tore themselves apart. We talked about the war in hushed tones, but the war never touched us. I would sneak out of my room late at night and listen to my parents talk about the war and how it would affect myself and my little sister, Maria. Then our worst fears came true; in 1940, the German army invaded Holland. At first, everyone was surprised; Holland had claimed its neutrality and, by the rules of war, shouldn't be invaded, or so my father said. Men, both young and old, were sent to guard our borders, but we weren't ready. Our weapons were outdated and our army lacked the men and supplies. There was no way we could win.

School was different; our teachers were scared and tried to keep us busy while the Germans pushed their advance. All the adults were nervous and tried to prepare for the worst. Within four days, the Germans controlled most of eastern Holland, including my hometown of Eindhoven. The details become hazy after that, but I do remember a few things.

I remember how my parents sent us to bed earlier. They argued more. Mom wanted to send Maria and me away to Britain, but my Father said it was too late; the Germans were already here. I would listen behind my door hoping Mother would listen to Father; I didn't want to go away. I remember the day the German soldiers first walked through our schools telling us we would be fine as long as we listened; they were scary in their uniforms and the permanent scowls on their chiseled faces. I remember Mother and Father kept us home from school after that.

I remember the last time I saw my parents, and the last words they said to me.

My Father's brother lived in Rotterdam and my parents went to his house to help him. Father believed my sister and I would be safer at home, so we were left behind. Mother told me they'd be back as soon as they could. I remember how she kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. My hair is a dull brown colour, and it's not soft and shiny like Maria's hair. I was always envious of her looks. Father stared down at me with that stern face of his. He looked tired and two years older. Normally, he tried to smirk or wink to get me to smile, but not this time.

"Katinka," he said gruffly as he gripped my shoulder. Mother was talking to Maria telling her to behave and to eat her vegetables, but Maria just rolled her eyes and nodded more focused on the latest in the rumour mill. Father squeezed my shoulder as I looked back to him. He had stormy gray eyes; I wish I had his eyes and not my plain brown.

"Katinka," he repeated, "take care of your sister."

"Yes, Father, I promise." He nodded then left with my mother. They were killed a few days later during the Rotterdam Bombing. 900 Dutch people were killed by the Germans and 25,000 homes were destroyed.

A woman from the market told me about my parent's deaths. I don't remember what I did next or even hearing her words. Maria was sitting next to me and started screaming. She was beautiful, even when she cried. Her blue eyes turned to crystals while her blonde hair turned to the colour of straw. Her round, gorgeous face was soft while tears ran down her cheeks like diamonds. I remember asking God to forgive me for my jealousy, especially at a time like that.

I remember the first time I took the Colonel to bed. I was only sixteen years old and I was scared. My parents had been dead for six months leaving me alone to take care of my sister. The teachers and nuns at the church offered to take us in, but neither Maria nor I wanted to leave the house. They didn't argue too much; they had too many orphans to deal with as it was. They still kept an eye on us. Pieter's mother even gave us some extra eggs to feed us.

Holland surrendered to the Germans to save more Dutch lives a few days after the Rotterdam Bombing. I understand why, but it left to us to the German's mercy. They patrolled the streets and watched us carefully. They prohibited our flags, orange armbands, and our national anthem. We were prisoners in our own homes. The Germans took our resources and food and sent them to Germany until there was nothing left to eat. We were starving and would suck on rocks and eat Tulip bulbs to feel full. I would scrounge and beg for food to give to Maria; sometimes I was successful, and sometimes I wasn't. Even Pieter's mother couldn't give us eggs anymore.

The Germans began sleeping with some of the women; most were willing for the chance of extra food, security, protection, and, some, just to sleep with the conquerors. They were treated like outcasts. I dropped out of school to take better care of Maria. I began to notice how the soldiers watched Maria leave and come back from school; they hooted and whistled at her as she walked away. I am proud to say she is a true Dutchman and would ignore them, but the looks increased every day.

I was waiting outside the house watching as Maria left for school. The soldiers whistled and called at her. I gritted my teeth and bit back a response; so far, the Germans weren't too harsh, but I had noticed the Cohen family had disappeared; I no longer saw them praying by the window multiple times a day.

"She's pretty, not like you. What's your name, ugly girl?" I looked up at a tall man with greying hair and blue eyes. He had a strong jaw and a harsh grin that sent shivers down my spine. His voice was deep and gravelly. He spoke Dutch with a heavy German accent. He wore a grey uniform with a swastika hanging by his throat. He emanated power, prestige, and wealth. His skin was bright and his eyes were lively; everyone else was pale, pasty, and their eyes were dull from hunger and fear. I flinched and clasped my hands in front of my legs staring up at him.

"Katinka," I mumbled glancing up at him.

"A strong German name, are you German?" He asked. I shook my head as he glanced down at me with a wry grin before he continued, "That girl is pretty; she's your sister, isn't she?" I nodded slowly as I swallowed hard. "Hmm, it appears she got all the good looks in your family. That's not a good thing; eventually, the men are going to take what they want from her, one way or another. However, I could help with that."

"How?" I asked standing tall as my hands dropped to my sides. He walked in front of me and examined me as I narrowed my eyes. He hummed and pursed his thin lips.

"You're not as pretty as your sister. Your chest is flat, your nose is crooked, your eyes are too far apart, you have acne, and you lack any confidence." He exhaled loudly as his eyes roamed up and down my body then he looked into my eyes. "I am a colonel and I can keep my men away from your sister. They will listen to me, but it will cost you." I stared at him open mouthed as my stomach crawled. I knew what he wanted. My tongue tasted like vomit as my hands began to shake.

"No," I muttered taking a few steps away as I wrapped my arms around myself again.

"Fine, then they will take it from your sister."

I looked down the street where Maria had vanished. The soldiers were slowly dissipating as they smoked cigarettes and laughed. I thought of my father and pictured his grey eyes and his tired face.

" _Katinka, take care of your sister."_

My eyes watered as I bit my lip and looked back to the colonel. I had seen the hunger in the soldier's eyes and knew the colonel's words to be true. I had promised my father; it was the last thing he said to me. The colonel grinned as I nodded feeling sick and vulgar.

"Now?" I asked in a squeak. His grin morphed into a smile as he opened the door to my house and waved me inside. I led him to my bedroom as tears collected in my eyes. I didn't want to do this, but I promised. He shut the door behind us as I closed my eyes, praying this was all a dream. He stepped forward and slowly unbuttoned the front of my blouse with his rough and calloused fingers.

"Relax, girl, just relax."

" _Katinka, take care of your sister."_

I was, Father. I was.

* * *

The years passed like leaves falling from the trees. Most of my days were spent with the Colonel, and my nights were with Maria. The Colonel honoured his agreement; the looks, jeers, and calls directed at Maria stopped almost overnight. Also, as a bonus, he gave us more food. As the years went on it was apparent everyone in Holland was suffering, including the Germans, but Maria and I were doing okay, all things considering.

The war raged on; the Germans forced all men from ages 18 to 45 to work in a factory, or Arbeitseinsatz, which were frequently bombed by Allied soldiers. Pieter was sent there, but he was one of the lucky ones who was never injured in the bombings, and, for that, I thanked God. The German's advance seemed endless and without hope of stopping. Almost all of Europe was under German control, all except Britain.

I stepped into the street after Maria had gone to school staring down the alley, waiting for the Colonel. He never told me his real name, and I never cared to know. I once saw a picture of a woman with two kids, one boy and one girl. His family. A few years ago, that would have made me sick, but I didn't feel anything anymore. I just shrugged and put the photograph back. I was looking down the dusty alley when a voice called out to me. It wasn't harsh or commanding like the Colonel, but soft and hesitant. I had thought I had imagined it when I looked and saw Pieter standing there.

"Pieter?" I breathed. My heart was still and my hands were calm; I felt nothing towards him anymore, just a pang of painful nostalgia. I wished for the days long past; for school and yellow flowers, but they were gone and there was nothing I could do to bring them back. They were dead along with my parents. He nodded and joined me at the stairs wearing a thin, nervous grin as he ran his fingers through his coal dusted hair. "Shouldn't you be at the Arbeitseinsatz?"

"They let me go home early today, but I don't know why. It's not the most fun place in the world; it's always so loud, dusty, and you can't breathe in there." He rubbed at his face, which was covered in coal. I knew the Germans used the Arbeitseinsatz to create more planes and weapons, that's why the Allied soldiers kept bombing us. The Germans had also put a small airport nearby because our country was the closest to Britain.

He continued, "What about you? I noticed you have been talking a German soldier a lot lately. Are you okay?" I looked down and kept my mouth shut; I couldn't talk about the Colonel, and I wasn't okay. If only Maria knew how much I did for her; if only my father knew I had kept my promise. I looked to the side of Pieter's pants where an orange cloth hung from his right pocket. My eyes grew large as I pointed at the cloth.

"Pieter, you can't wear that. If the Germans see it, they will arrest you for sure," I warned with narrowed eyes. The Colonel had told me the penalty of Dutch pride after finding Maria's orange cloth. I had lied and said it was mine, a gift from my father. He took it and struck me across the face. He was much rougher next time we met, I could barely walk.

"We don't need to be afraid of them, Katinka! This is our home! Besides, Hitler himself said we are to become part of the new Germany; he doesn't want to hurt us."

"You believe him? They will kill us if he has to or we go against his plans. This," I pointed to the cloth, "this treason and he has hurt us before; do you not remember the Rotterdam Bombings? Nine hundred of our people died. Or what about those who have been disappearing for no reason? I do not trust the Germans, not for one cloth!" Some of the people had formed a Dutch Resistance and would obstruct the Germans in any way possible. They'd also find downed Allied airmen and smuggle them to safety. They used the orange cloth as an identifier, but they were to be executed if the Germans found them. But first, they would be tortured and used as an example.

"What has happened to you, Katinka?" Pieter breathed as he crossed his arms tucking the cloth further into his pocket. "You were timid before but now... You act as if we should do nothing and let the Germans take our lands without a fight. You don't smile anymore." He stood up as I looked down at the ground; the Colonel would be arriving soon. "We will win our freedom back, Katinka, you'll see."

"Pieter," I called as he took two steps away. I thought of the two apples in my pocket as they burned against my leg. The Colonel had given them to me for my 'cooperation'. I had meant to give them to Pieter's mother as gratitude for helping us, but I couldn't. I bit my lip and took a step back as my arms crossed over my chest. "Be safe, Pieter."

He nodded and walked back to his home as I gnawed on my lip begging for God's forgiveness. I was an envious, selfish girl.

 _The Colonel will arrive at any moment,_ I thought as I looked down the alley and felt something within me lurch. I didn't want him, I didn't want to protect Maria anymore; I didn't want to be some ugly girl under German occupation. I wanted to run away. The street invited me as I looked at the nearby windmill. I could pack some food, not a lot, and run; the Colonel and Pieter would never find me again. I'd be free.

" _Take care of your sister."_ Maria... Without the Colonel's protection, the soldiers would go back to whistling at her. Eventually, the soldiers or the Colonel himself would take her just as he took me. During our time together, the Colonel would say how he wished I was my sister, he moaned about her face, hair, and eyes in want. But, Maria had strength and spirit; she would never allow that to happen to her. She would fight and be harmed in the process. She'd never be the same.

" _Take care of your sister."_ Tears filled my eyes as my bottom lip quivered in fear. My abdomen pulsed in pain as I blinked back tears. I promised my father.

"Katinka!" It was the Colonel. My shoulders tensed as my breath grew tight in my lungs. I slowly turned to face him as I held myself tightly, praying God would smite him where he stood. The Colonel grinned as want and desire flashed in his eyes, but it wasn't me he wanted; it was what I could give him.

"Come on!" He barked as his smile was replaced with a look of annoyance and impatience. I took one last look down the road as I held my breath. My father's tired face formed in my mind as I exhaled deeply and released one more tear. Then, I turned and followed the Colonel into the house. As I closed the door, I saw Pieter watching me with a haunted expression.

The Colonel had given us some vegetables and fish for supper. I spent the rest of the day preparing the meal when Maria arrived home. Her hair spread around her face like a golden halo while her lips were pink and soft. Her eyes sparkled like gems as she dropped her bookbag on the table and complained about school. I watched her as she talked, but I never listened to her words. The Colonel was right; even though I was three years her senior, her face held a womanly quality while mine was harsh. She had ample breasts while mine were barely forming. Her legs were long and pale while mine were white and stubby.

"Isn't that dumb?" She hissed; even her voice had a melodic quality to it. The Colonel forbade from talking; he said I sounded like a dying goose. Maria looked at me with those blue eyes I envied as she placed her hands on her hips brimming with confidence. "Katinka, isn't it?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure, I guess," I mumbled as I winced in pain and leaned over, holding my stomach in my hands. The Colonel had been anything but gentle. Although he never said anything, I think he saw me talking to Pieter.

"Katinka, are you okay?" Maria asked as she joined me at my side. My thighs, legs, and abdomen were pulsing painfully as I forced a nod. Maria gave me a look as she placed her hands on my shoulders and led me to the table. I sat down as Maria shook her head.

"What?" I hissed angered by her innocence and beauty, everything she had in abundance while I had nothing but darkness.

"You're a terrible liar," she said with a smile. My scowl and anger broke as my lips formed whatever smile I could muster and began to chuckle darkly. It was a strange sound, like a mix between a cry and a scream. "You have been working too hard; sit back and I'll finish dinner. Where did you find fish anyways? Was is that Pieter guy? I knew it! He likes you!"

I thought of Pieter's handsome face watching me as I followed the Colonel into the house. I shook my head; if he did like me, that wasn't the case anymore. He thought I was a traitor. Those who slept with the Germans were ignored and treated like lepers; some of the people had seen the Colonel leave my house and made the right assumption. I couldn't get milk anymore. I had to trade food with the nuns to get it, but even they gave me looks. Now, I just asked the Colonel, but that always cost extra.

I looked up from my thoughts when Maria began humming a tune. It was soft, melodic, and nostalgic, something from my childhood, something good. It took me a moment before I realized it was Mother and Father's song. They sang this song whenever we children were afraid, sick, sleepy, or stressed. I blinked slowly as Maria nodded encouragingly.

"Sing with me, Katinka!" She stood up and sung louder as she began dancing reminding me of a graceful, falling leaf. I hesitantly added my voice to hers noticing how my voice was shrill and horribly off-tune, but Maria encouraged me. She grabbed my hands and pulled me upright as we danced together. I looked like a clumsy duck, but it was fun. We laughed until dinner was finished. I sat back down as my pains returned. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

"I envy you, Katinka," Maria muttered after our meal was finished. The vegetables were old and tough and the fish was rubbery, but it was food. We only ate a small portion and saved the rest. I looked up as I made a face.

"Why?" I asked swallowing a golf ball, "You're beautiful, smart, kind, and lovely. What do I have that makes you envious?"

"You're much smarter than me, and I envy your strength. You took care of me after Mother and Father died and you have never complained once. That's why Father talked to you; he knew he could depend on you, he knew you'd do anything to protect me. I always felt I had to dance, sing, or make a fuss to get Father's attention, but you never had to. He always listened to you. Looks and beauty fade with time, but Father's love, that will last forever." Her eyes filled with tears as she held herself in her arms. Her confidence and self-assurance were gone, it was an act. I reached across the table and touched her arm.

"Father loved you too, Maria. You were his baby daughter. He just didn't know how to express it. He would be proud of you, and so would Mother," I assured.

"Really?" Maria began sobbing gently as her eyes turned red and her shoulder began bouncing. I left my seat and embraced my baby sister tightly as my chest grew tight.

"Really. I promise, Maria." I thought of the bruises that covered my thighs, the pain, the embarrassment, and the revulsion I felt at the Colonel's hands. I was glad I never ran away; Maria needed me.

"Why don't you sing another song?" I asked as Maria smiled and complied. I watched her as my resolve grew stronger and stronger. I had a promise to keep and I didn't care how much it cost or how much of myself I would lose in the process.

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The years grew harder and harder. Even the Colonel had trouble finding food, so Maria and I starved along with everyone else. In 1941, the United States of America announced their involvement in the war. Since then, the Germans had been scared. The Colonel scoffed and said the Americans could never defeat Hitler's might and were doomed to fail. I had looked up at him and asked, "Then why are you frightened?" He beat me and hurt me more than usual; I lied to Maria and said I had fallen down the stairs. After that, I wore longer skirts and blouses to hide the bruises.

One day, I looked up into the sky and gasped as white parachutes filled the air. They were like angels; they were a prayer come true. I had prayed for deliverance since the Invasion, and now it was finally here.

The German soldiers fell back, abandoning the city. The people of Eindhoven celebrated its' freedom for the first time in years. We pulled out our flags and hung them from the windowsills. Orange cloths were worn proudly as the women changed into their nicest dresses. Maria stayed home from school and picked out a navy blue dress for me while she wore a soft pink.

It was mid-morning when the Americans arrived in Eindhoven. We took to the streets cheering, waving our flags, and celebrating. The soldiers were young and wore green. I stared at their guns and wondered what it was like to shoot one. Mother used to say that even in war, man mustn't kill another as it was a sin before God. I once agreed with her and was proud of Holland's neutrality. Now, I wish I had killed every single German.

Maria ran off to greet the soldiers and thank them as I stood by the door. My neighbours gave me sneering looks as I held myself. Years ago, I would have been with Maria, kissing the Americans' cheeks and giving them our last roll of cheese, but now I just wanted to witness it.

One soldier walked up to me. He was tall with broad shoulders and short, curly, blonde hair. He had kind, blue eyes and had a cigar between his lips. My father used to smoke cigars.

"Have you seen my men?" He shouted over the cheers and laughter of the streets. He spoke in English; I had dropped out of school, so I only knew basic sentences.

"Pardon?" I asked in Dutch narrowing my eyes. He repeated his question, speaking slower and using his free hand to make wide gestures. I stared at his gun before looking back into his eyes.

"You don't understand a word I'm saying, do ya?" He shouted with a kind smile. His words were strange sounds to my ears as I slowly shook my head in confusion. He chuckled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it!" He smiled at me then took two steps away.

"American!" I shouted in my best English as I leapt forward. He turned to face me as I kissed his cheek. " _Danke. Danke. Danke!"_ I thanked him repeatedly as I pressed an apple into his hands; it was the only food we had left. We used to have more, but Maria gave some cheese away to a soldier with dark, spiky hair and a lopsided grin. She gave some fruit to a man with black hair, brown eyes, and a squarish face. That man was holding a bottle of whiskey in his hands and had been swaying slightly. The blonde soldier in front of me nodded and made his way back into the crowd of people. I watched him leave with a small smile.

I knew they would come for me, so I was never surprised when two men with orange armbands grabbed both my arms and pulled me forward. They dragged me to the center of the road where they had gathered other women. They dropped me to the ground as the rocks bit into my flesh. Then they tore at my dress until I was sitting in my undergarments shivering in the humid wind. They grabbed hair clippers and began cutting my hair, pulling painfully against my scalp. They shaved my head bald as I watched my dry, dull hair fall to the road in clumps. They missed some strands so my scalp had patches of uneven fluff. One of the men painted a black swastika onto my forehead.

" _Slet! Slet! Slet!_ " The crowd chanted as I looked around. The girl beside me was wailing and crying while another was trying to fight back. "Slut! Slut! Slut!"

"Katinka!" I looked up where Pieter was standing wearing a sympathetic expression. I expected him to hate me and spit on my face, but he wore a soft, sad look while anger burned in the back of his eyes. He took a step towards me with balled fists glaring at my attackers. I shook my head.

"No, find Maria! Don't let her see this! Protect Maria!" I ordered. I didn't care if my neighbours knew what I did, but I was still innocent in Maria's eyes. I didn't want her to know what I did. Pieter paused and gritted his teeth together but obeyed and ran off to find her. He'd keep her safe.

"Slut! Slut! Slut!" The chanting continued as one of the men stepped forward and squeezed my breast painfully in his hand. His other hand moved up my body revealing the marbled bruises on my stomach and legs. I looked up without emotion; I had done the unthinkable crime. I had slept with the invading Germans, and not just any German, a colonel. I had committed the crime and now I would face the consequences; it was my judgement day.

The Americans were watching with either apathy or unease. A few stepped forward but were stopped by their commanders or men in orange armbands. I looked up and saw the blonde American. The cigar was no longer between his teeth as his lips made a concerned frown and his eyebrows drew together. I met his gaze a single tear fell from my eye, but it was not a tear of pain, sadness, or embarrassment. I flashed him a small smile, my first genuine smile since before the war. The smile then morphed into a laugh. I threw my head back as I laughed and laughed, ignoring the crying, shouting, and wandering hands of my neighbours.

After four years under the Colonel's control and abuse, I was finally free!

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" _ **I believe in the sun even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when I cannot feel it. I believe in God even when he is silent"- Found on a wall in Germany during the Holocaust**_

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 **Author's note:** First of all, thank you for reading and let me know what you guys think of this one. This is a one-shot so there will be no sequel or anything. I named this piece after the song _Losing Your Memory_ by Ryan Star; I really like the sound and feeling the song has. Like, the soldiers- and victims of WW2- are slowly losing the memory of a life without war, and who they were before the war. I watched several YouTube tribute videos of this song with _Band of Brothers_ and I thought it really fit the overall feeling of the show. One of the things that stuck with me in Part 4, was how the women who slept with the Germans were treated. I am not saying what was done was right or wrong, I wasn't there and I am sure I would be angry knowing my neighbour slept with the invading army. _ **This story is not my way of passing judgement on what happened.**_ This is just a take on one individual who is put in a bad situation and has to make a difficult choice. I would assume some of the women did sleep with the Germans to protect their families or gain simple favours such as food, but again this is just an assumption. This story is complete fiction based on true events. I tried to get the dates right, but if I made a mistake I apologize. In reality, the Americans and British liberated the western part of Holland in Operation Market Garden, but not the entire country. The Canadians were called in and replaced the Americans and finished what the Americans started by liberating the entire country. Once again, I am not trying to say/imply who did more work or whatever; both countries worked hard to help the Dutch, and both countries lost a lot of men during the liberation of Holland. However, as a Canadian, I know the Dutch have been very grateful to the Canadians, I would also assume the same for the Americans but I don't know for sure. I have seen them deliver tulips to Canada on Remembrance Day every year. Alright, that's all I have to say. Thanks again for reading and let me know what you think; I take all forms of criticism.


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